


and they were roommates...

by apaigeofspells



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Cute, England - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gay, Gen, M/M, Magical, Multi, SnowBaz, Watford, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2019-11-18 01:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apaigeofspells/pseuds/apaigeofspells
Summary: Baz and Simon are roommates, as always. Good luck keeping them calm, but hey, at least it's snowing.





	1. and they were roommates

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, would anybody want a follow up or another one shot with Baz/Simon??

*lil steamy, trying to work on my tension building skills. Lmk if it's too fanfic overly descriptive lol enjoy

It was snowing outside Watford, not enough to pile up like in films, but enough to feel that snow globe effect. With his red golden curls lying across an old, green flannel pillow, Simon looked through his window. The grounds were becoming more and more white, little patches growing. Simon was looking across and out his and Baz's only real window, a small slat in the wall between their beds, smushed through the stone wall. High above the rest of the dormitories, the two boys sat apart in their beds, Baz practicing his diction in old English spells quietly under his breath. Simon sprawled on his bed, enjoying an excuse to remain snug and do nothing but annoy Baz.

"where art t-

" hey "

"Where art th—

" hey

"Where art th

" hey"

"what?!"

He smirked, only slightly, knowing he could still get under his skin. Baz's small flare of annoyance faded back as he relaxed into his bed. Simon rolled to his side, up onto his elbow, facing Baz. The pale boys hair fell in his face, as he slouched in the corner of his bed against the wall, attempting to practice. Each time he looked over, Simon would catch Baz passing his eyes over him, glimpsing over once he thought his eyes had gone elsewhere. Baz was as slick as he was charming, that is to say, very. But sometimes... he just wanted to test the tension and stare bluntly, behind a book or when he knew Simon's mind was elsewhere.

Despite his relaxed form, Simon could hear the small hitch in his breath when he faced him and they briefly locked eyes. It wasn't a bad thing, to see his small panic as he was caught. Baz was something to look at. All angles, sharp and sturdy, black hair like a the sky in a thunderstorm, loose and ragged, with his unusually strong figure, he was the perfect anomaly. At the moment, this early winter morning, he lay in his school shirt, tie hanging loose, and his slacks tight on his legs: Simon could see slight glimpses of tight pale muscle under his shirt, peaking out when Baz shifted ever so slightly upward. It was one thing to call him deviant, but another to call him beautiful. His harsh lines were daunting and unforgiving, and his eyes always focused with intensity, even just laying around. But underneath his hair, behind the squinted eyes, beneath his school clothes, there was a Baz hungry for his touch. Simon had met this Baz, once or twice, not on purpose. He came out in random times, usually at moments of weakness. Simon began to think off and back to those few times of such overpowering tension, anger and fury for Baz, and the underlying fire of wanting that he couldn't shut down. Their face offs would barely scratch the surface of their power and passions, and they'd only explored the surface of these intense feelings. But on the rare times the tension boiled over, Simon could remember his touch. The desperation in his tight grasp, the cold touch of his hand on his neck, and the way in which he moved, as if he'd been starved of him. Hands, always his hands it seems, never stopped. His hands never stopped exploring, they just kept finding new places to go and feel and to torture. The feelings of his hand in his hair, the weight of him as he pressed down, the surprising lightness of his breath, the pressure building in both of them.

Baz hadn't thought much of these past sequences. Back against the wall, he mumbled his words in practice. Simon and him.... had happened, and ......that was all there was. He never really left him, the tease that was Simon Snow. Always seven feet apart, or closer, back to back in life, a shoulder brushing against him as he'd walk, the smell of his hair as he left a steaming shower. He had enough to see every morning, he didn't need a reminder of what he knew was his, if he wanted that badly. No, they hadn't said much since, and they hadn't needed to. They worked as usual, moved around eachother, a few sarcastic comments, a mumble under breath. Sometimes Baz would watch over the Simon, watching him breathe slowly, his chest rise slowly, and once, in the night, Baz felt Simon climb in next to him. He was shaking, and wrapped his arm around Baz. That night wasn't spoken of either. But Baz never forgot the feeling of Simon's hips pressed against his back, his heavy breathing against his neck, raising the hairs on his neck as he exhaled, sending sensations down his back. That one golden curl that fell over his head and onto Baz's upper brow. He'd never forget the golden boy's pressure, as he found himself at the mercy of Simon Snow. His chest on his, him pressing hard against Baz, hand on his lower hip, pushing himself against him, and his eyes undressing him. And though Baz was almost irritated by his game, he closed their gap and let him trail his lips down his jaw, soft whispers, to meet his neck, where his tension peaked and erection rose. He'd never forget the way his arms wrapped around him, his groans as they kissed, and the way he pressed deeper into the gap between their legs with each breath.

" BAZ"

"What?!"

Coming out of his daze, and nearly dropping a book on his own foot, he realized he'd been levitating up up and away in his daze.

"God, Snow, can't you give me a break from your whining for ten minutes?"

"If you'd really like"

The bumbling idiot got inside his head too easily. Sometimes, he almost wanted the pushback, to feel like he fought the battle before giving in. At that moment, he was wound up and too distracted.

Simon could tell Baz was lost, his eyes distant, his breath hitching. He loved to see him worked up, and Simon could only feel the sharp cold through the walls and his breathing sharpen while watching Baz concentrate. Eyes nearly closed, he mouthed his words in a mumble, as Simon stood.

Baz spoke now through gritted teeth and clenched muscles, agitated, as he sensed Simon moving closer,

"what, you blonde oaf, what could you possibly nee-"

Simon pulled Baz from his corner and lower ontothe bed, as Baz adjusted to sit partially upright on his elbows. Simon leaned over, adjusting his legs, fitting almost in line with Baz's body, their chests nearly touching, and their hips meeting. Nobody was around and Simon had lost track of the snow or the cold or anything but the pressure of Baz against his pajama pants, tauntingly restricted.

"Snow... you don't know what you're doing "

Baz could barely stand it, him looming over him, an inch within reach.

"And since when have I ever known what I'm doing?"

Baz was silent as Simon leaned closer until their foreheads nearly touched. He slowly bent close to his muscled chest, pushing his head against his shoulder and began to whisper in his ear.

He could feel the muscles in Simon's forearms holding himself just over him, his jaw clenched, as his hot breath whispered in his ear,

"Show me, Basilton," he took a sharp breath and spoke with a voice deep with liquid lust, "...show me what you've been craving."

The words settled on his neck, as he felt his body electrify. He lifted his chin, looking into his stupid mystic blue eyes. They were way too large for his bulky head and his loose, curly hair, it nearly fell in his eyes. But his lips, the firm small smirk he held, the intense furrow of his brow, the wild in his eyes as he felt his hand grip his side tighter, the pressure building in between them: he was intoxicating. And Baz was an addict. He pulled Simon to him, taking his smirk into his, feeling the boy push by instinct into his lower half, his hips bucking in response. He felt his hands reach that stupid gold hair, soft in his hand, gripping it and bringing his head down harder, with a small groan escaping Simons lips. Baz felt Simon hard against his thigh. He began to reach his arm to his muscled back, feeling his shoulders shift above him, and holding on tight as Simon began to grind into him. Baz sat more upright; not allowing Simon to break their tension, and keeping his lips to his, he felt him push down as he went up. Baz took his leg and hooked him under, and he wasn't going to let Simon Snow forget who the blood sucker was in the room. Never again.


	2. two bros chillin in a hot tub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This snow is just about annoying as he is.
> 
> He can't just walk slower?
> 
> Simon and Baz trudge on in a snow storm, Watford coated in white, and two frost bitten boys end up in a forest. Baz is miffed, Simon is determined, another night at Watford.

It wasn't everyday that the winter at Watford turned this cold, nearly drenched in ice and snow, but when it did, what was there to do but sled? Well, a lot apparently, as Simon had homework bigger than his dormitory and had no time to himself. The moat had completely frozen over and tracking an instinct, Simon had found himself trapped outside the Watford gates. Come on, he knew he was here, he could feel it. The air was thin and his breath fogged up like a cloud, and still he couldn't see Baz. He knew he'd be close, it had been what, five days since his last night outing, and he knows he can't last that long sane. His hair kept falling in his face, and he was too cold to bother moving it, so on he went in the merlin forsaken freeze that he voluntarily trudged into. 

 

He needs to stop with his hero complex, it isn't helping anybody. Baz wasn't so fond of the winter freeze either, but Snow following him into a blizzard wasn't making their problem much easier. Baz stuck out most obviously, a stark pale figure nearly camouflaged by the iced forest, but with black hair that swept in his face, he was a blatant contrast to the woods surrounding him. And now they'd be stuck out here all night, because he insisted on following him out. 

 

If Baz hadn't half wanted Simon to follow him, he might have lost it. This was Baz though, and he couldn't fight himself on Simon, he'd tried, and look how that turned out.

 

The bloody idiot, deciding to charge into the night, he's gonna freeze, no matter how bronze he is. Baz trudged on through snow, his feet dragging, and his arms crossed as he fought off the wind whipping across his face. Should've brought a coat, this was supposed to be quick, coven forbid I actually stick to a plan. He was in a black jacket, tight fitting against his muscled back and wool , nearly as dark as his hair. Simon on the otherhand, resembled what could only be summarized as an Abercrombie brand eskimo, in an olive green heavy jacket that made his hair nearly sparkle with fur lining in the hood. Red and green, Snow nearly looked like an elf. No matter his thoughts, Baz loved Simon in the snow. He was like a little drop of sunlight, even subdued he felt his presence near, and he can't lie to himself that he didn't appreciate having a snow guard, even if it was the equivalent of having a golden retriever trailing him.

At some point, around a half hour into this endeavor, Simon wasn't having much fun anymore. His instincts were diminshing and now he was just feeling the numbness of his soaked legs in the heavy snow. Crossing his arms, he pushed on with his head down, hoping for this to be over. He hadn't realized that Baz had entered a forest clearing, the trees standing at attention in packs as the snow raged on. Simon caught sight of him, and followed at a distance through the thick wood. He came upon a pond, frozen, and tempting. Simon then had the sudden urge to test the freeze, just this once, maybe he could. A magician, sure, an element manipulator, let's not flatter ourselves too much. He had a child like wonder dancing in his eyes, despite his smug and grown appearance. Looking around, not too obviously, Simon attempted to nonchalantly scan his surroundings. And off to the side, leaning against a snow coated oak, was Basiltin Pitch, in all his stubborn, handsome darkness, the only beautiful darkness anyone could find in a bright white snow storm. Simon caught his eye, nodding, as if to pull him on the ice with him. Baz was not one for risking ice plunging, but Simon seemed to come alive with the hope that just maybe Baz was leaning off the tree to meet him there.

Over the deafening cold wind, with snow nearly blinding his sight, Simon called out to Baz, his excitement leaking slightly into his voice.

"Hey Baz, nice of you to show yourself"

 

"...Snow"

 

"Come on Baz, don't do this now. 

 

"It seems snow fits you well"

 

Simon let a quick rise in his lip show itself, only the slightest tooth smile, nearly impossible to see in the snow, except Baz knew what he was looking for. Simon nearly glowed, that giant demon magician's hair practically exploded against the iced forest around them. Baz only somewhat allowed a small, casual movement towards him from beneath the trees. This was still Snow and he was still starved, it had been too long. 

 

 

By the end, Simon had found himself on top of a somehow warm Baz, with an actual laugh across his almost flushed cheeks. Well, it was the skin on his cheekbones, but not exactly cheeks. It doesn't matter, but Baz was cute. He was nearly smiling, and his eyes reflected back at Simon the same feeling of screw it its snowing. Simon nearly lunged at him, meeting his lips, the fire within them warmer than any of the snow falling just a foot away as they laid beneath the dark trees. The ground was frozen, but Baz couldn't tell, nor did he care, his senses were fine tuned to sense only Simon, and how his hands had somehow reached the small of his back, sending his first shivers down his spine in this snow storm. Simon nearly glowed, his few freckles dancing across his smug face, his jaw tense, as he gazed over baz. He felt him bring him closer, his legs falling between the soaked through jean clad ones of Baz, and immediately he recognized the same pressure of Simon. If it weren't for the raging ice storm feet from them, the heat between him and Simon at this moment may have melted the earth where they laid.

It was weird to see Baz as cute, such a poignantly sharp and chilled face wasn't usually a cuddly one. It still wasn't, but that small near smile, the slight hitch in his breathing as it grew faster, was all Simon needed to know Baz wanted more.

Baz was entranced, he'd never admit it, but Simon, the snow, the sight of his blue eyes nearly bursting with excitement, he was stuck. He could feel the slightest muscle tense against him, and had the acute awareness of just how little he wanted anything at that moment but to be at the mercy of Simon Snow.

Simon leaned over, pushing Baz into the icy ground slightly, their pelvics meeting softly and brushed his lips just over that small smirk of Baz's, allowing their lips to touch just so briefly as to earn a small, almost inaudible whimper from deep within the great Basiltin Grimm Pitch.

Snow, you glorified movie cliche, if you tease me any further. Just do it you coward, you know what to do. This one time is seemingly the only time you d-

Baz was interupted in his train of thought from which he was nearly glaring at Simon when he felt the intense pressure building between their jeans, the rough pull of his back toward him, and his hot breath on the right of his neck. Simon had taken that moment to lean his head just behind his right ear, not quite his neck, where he knew Baz was most weak, but where his ear met the back of his neck. He kissed his pale skin softly, as small whimpers escaped Baz as he teased him: god he loved this power. The sensation of Simon being so close had given Baz chills down his neck, and as he leaned forward, he felt Simon, hard against him, grinding slowly. He felt his legs tighten around his now rocking hips, his thighs tensing with each minute movement of his body, and his head falling back against his will as Simon littered his neck with delicate kisses. Two contrasting desires, the weight of his muscled chest nearly suffocating him into lust, and the soft kisses, making him weak as he hit every small nook that only Simon knew could bring him over the edge. With a final kiss on his jaw line, he thrusted and pushed himself down on Baz, the snow shifting below him as he was pushed in with the force of his hips. He kissed Baz, and their collision muffled the instinctual moan that had escaped Baz's lips as Simon pushed him, further and further, completely apart from reality.


	4. road work ahead?!

Snow, I'm not doing this. No, no I am really not doing this this time. 

Simon, eager as ever, was half dragging, Baz out the door of their shared dormitory. Spring in the air, and an unhealthy amount of pollen floating around, Snow dragged a begrudging Baz across campus. Baz was not in the road-trip mood, and the spastic energy of his golden boy was starting to make him question his life choices. But not for too long, mind you; his stupid laugh and bouncing golden curls were just a small reminder of why Baz put up with the nauseating enthusiasm; a little of his sparkle brings it back every time. An extrovert, Baz was not: Simon had enough for the pair of them, and then some.

The wind was slow and warm, carrying the smell of flourishing nature, growing flowers and weaving vines. Baz's senses, heightened per circumstance, meant he was forcefully smelling the extremely potent greens around them. Stopping to smell the roses, and getting petunias shoved down your throat every time you go outside, are two drastically different experiences. However, Baz had never tolerated them so much as today, as his arm was being tugged through the courtyard behind a human-golden-retriever.

To a keen eye, it was apparent that Baz put on a reluctant show. He only play-fought; it was common knowledge that if Baz wanted a fight, there would be a fight. This was not the case with Mr. Simon Snow, who now looked back, barely slowing, to see Baz, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes a little brighter. That was all he needed to know as he turned and kept tugging, but feeling a little less resistance this time around.

***


	5. Update !!

Hi!! I am back for a bit as I have just finished wayward son... in one day. Do not judge me. Accordingly, I am craving some snowbaz writing. Would anybody want some ?


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